


poet (power in a name)

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Hightown Funk Treat, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bianca lasts longer than she should have, but it's time for Varric to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	poet (power in a name)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meggannn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggannn/gifts).



_ i have written you down and _

_ you will live forever _

 

* * *

 

Most crossbows do not last more than five years. The fact that Bianca managed nearly thirty is a feat he is sure he can never replicate. But everyone leaves him eventually, and his weapon is no exception.

Hawke commiserates with him, a bottle of brandy shared between them.

He commissions a new one, in parts - keeping the full design a secret, of course, old habits died hard - and assembles them on his desk. Bran is furious when oil leaks onto the Starkhaven contracts, but Varric will not be swayed from his task.

Hawke laughs, tears running down her cheeks as she holds onto the back of his chair for support.

The lacquer for the wood takes two weeks, and the polish for the silverite screws almost ruins the finish, but Varric does not mind taking his time. It is a labour of love, quite literally, and he needs it to be perfect.

Hawke teases his perfectionist streak, threatening to swipe red paint over the handle.

The bolts are solid, the same stock as Bianca had been. But everything about this crossbow screams another name, and as Varric hefts it into his arms, there is no other that will do.

He can see her smile, the way he has seen her since she disappeared - in the corner of his eyes, in every heartbeat.

“ _Hawke_ ,” he murmurs, and for the first time in a long time he does not feel haunted.


End file.
